Page 40 of The Summer Intern

"Right.Well, I was there.And sober as usual, so I think my memory might be clearer.And you are not as good as you think you are at twerking."

I frowned."I've never twerked a day in my life."

Oliver blinked."You sure about that?"

"Whatever.Why weren't you worried about me?I could have been roofied!"

"You're oddly fascinated with being roofied.I wasn't worried because Matt texted me and let me know you were crashing at his place.He didn't want me to worry, and I knew you were in good hands."

My stomach did a weird flip.Matt had texted Oliver?To let him know I was okay?Something warm and unwelcome unfurled in my chest, and I quickly stomped it down.That was just Matt being responsible.

"Oh," I said, trying to sound nonchalant."That's...thoughtful of him."

"It was."Oliver adjusted his glasses, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth."So?The tiny house?"

I sighed, carefully lowering myself onto the edge of my bed.My body was still reminding me, with every movement, of exactly what I'd been doing a couple of hours ago."It's...yeah, it's actually amazing.All custom-built.There's this loft bed and these clever storage solutions and..."I caught myself sounding way too enthusiastic and clamped my mouth shut."I mean, it's whatever.Just a house.A very small house.Not one I’d want to live in or anything.Not that he offered."Shit, why did I keep rambling?I was only digging myself deeper.

Oliver's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Anyway," I continued, pushing myself up from the table with a barely concealed wince, "I'm just here to change.I need to be at the music cabin in like twenty minutes."

"On a Sunday morning?"Oliver asked.“This weekend was your last day off until the campers arrive."

"I need to finish setting up the—" I stopped mid-sentence, seeing the knowing look spreading across Oliver's face."What?"

"Nothing," Oliver said innocently, turning a page in his notebook."Just interesting that you're rushing back to work for the guy you're not falling for."

"I'm not," I insisted, hobbling a little as I made my way to our shared dresser."Why would I be falling for him?All we do is fight.It's just work.The campers arrive in four days, and there's still a ton to do to make sure this arts curriculum is a hit."

"Case," Oliver said, his voice softening."You know it's okay if you like him, right?"

"I don't like him," I said, my voice frustratingly shaky."I mean, sure, he's hot.Like, objectively speaking.And the sex was..."I trailed off, remembering how the sex was.Mind-blowing.Earth-shattering.Possibly ruinous to all future sexual encounters.

"Ah," Oliver said, and I could hear the smile in his voice without turning around."So there was sex."

I spun around, wincing again at the movement."That's not what I—" But Oliver's knowing expression stopped me mid-lie."Fine.Yes.There was sex.But it was just birthday sex.A one-time thing.We don’t even get along.You could call it a hate fuck."

"Hate fuck," Oliver repeated."With your boss.Who you're not falling for."

I grinned, hoping it looked confident."Exactly."

"Did he give you a guitar?"Oliver asked, nodding toward the case I'd deposited on my bed.I chewed on my lip to stop myself from gushing about the guitar, because Matt had given me the most beautiful instrument I'd ever owned.The memory of his nervous smile as I'd opened it made something twist painfully in my chest.

"It's just a birthday gift," I said, the defensiveness creeping back into my voice."A kind gesture from my boss.It turned out he had a surprise party planned, and the message never got to you that you were supposed to bring me to the lodge, which is sweet, but in a boss-like way, right?I mean, sure, he also happens to be good in bed.Really good.Like, surprisingly good for a camp director who wears flannel year-round."The word vomit was spilling from my mouth uncontrolled."Did you know he has piercings?Like, multiple piercings.In places that—"

"TMI, Casey," Oliver cut in, holding up a hand."Seriously."

I felt my face burning."Anyway.Not falling for him."

Oliver returned to his spreadsheet, looking unbothered."If you say so, I believe you.There’s nothing wrong with a fun fling with your hot boss," he murmured, scribbling something down."What kind of guitar is it?"

In spite of myself, I felt a smile tugging at my lips."A custom piece by a small guitar maker.You wouldn’t have heard of them, but it has the best materials — mahogany back and sides, Sitka spruce top with this gorgeous inlay.The sound is so rich, with this punchy treble..."I trailed off, knowing I was geeking out, remembering how my fingers had trembled when I'd first strummed it.How Matt had watched me with those piercing blue eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips.How he'd remembered what I'd said weeks ago about my old guitar being on its last legs."It's perfect," I finished quietly.

"That sounds expensive," Oliver observed.

I focused very intently on a loose thread on my t-shirt."He said it wasn't a big deal.He has a friend who makes them."

"So your boss, who you're not falling for, bought you an expensive custom-made guitar for your birthday, planned you a surprise party, then rescued you when you were drunk, made sure I knew you were safe, and then…"

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